


Sleep

by shadowofrazia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowofrazia/pseuds/shadowofrazia
Summary: After the war, Harry can't sleep.





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited version of a fic I posted on Fanfiction.Net like five (!!!) years ago. It's very different from something I'd post now, but I've been wanting to put it on AO3 for a while now. The original version can be found [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8280820/1/Sleep).

After the war, Harry stops playing quidditch. He lets people assume it's because of injuries, because he can't bear playing without half of his friends, can't bear seeing Ginny. In reality, the Golden Snitch has become one of his worst nightmares.

He sees it in his dreams. He remembers the strange feeling that went through him as he whispered _I am about to die_ , remembers the rushing in his ears, the absolute terror stronger than anything he'd ever felt, just before the spell hit him.

He remembers Narcissa Malfoy whispering _Is Draco alive?_

He dreams he'd answered no, and wakes violently.

He doesn't know if he screams, because no one is there to wake him.

***

Harry wanders the castle without his invisibility cloak. He can't bear the sight of it. It doesn't matter; people have been avoiding him ever since the end of the war. There are rumors, rumors that his powers have increased ten-fold, and not necessarily for the better. Harry doesn't mind the rumors—they keep people away.

"Potter."

Harry pulls his wand and turns, pointing it at the other boy's throat before he can stop himself. The fear in Draco's eyes is anything but comforting. Slowly, Harry lowers his wand.

"Don't call me that, Draco."

That's all they'd called him. _The Potter Boy. Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One_. He knows surnames are used between acquaintances, but all he wants to be is Harry. He doesn't want to be Potter any more than Draco wants to be Malfoy.

"Harry, then. You shouldn't be wandering around this time of night."

"Neither should you."

They aren't quite sure where they stand. On one hand, Draco's mother had saved him; on the other, Harry had gotten her killed. He'd gotten a lot of people killed.

"I couldn't sleep," Draco responds quietly. "I was going to the kitchens for some cocoa. My mother used to— Care to join me?"

That night, Harry refuses.

***

The four houses of Hogwarts have changed, for the Eighth Years. Only a few of them returned, so there was no need to separate them by house, even if there’s  too much tension between the four Gryffindors, Ernie Macmillan, and Draco for them to enjoy each other's company.

Draco, the lone Slytherin, identifiable by the crest on his robes and the stripes on his tie.

***

Harry sits atop the Astronomy Tower and just stares. He stares out over the grounds and tries not to remember. If he closes his eyes, he can see Snape pointing his wand and whispering, on Dumbledore's orders, _Avada Kedavra_. Harry does everything he can not to close his eyes.

"I bloody hate it up here."

"Then why did you follow me, Draco?"

"I promise, it helps," is all Draco says as he carefully sits beside Harry and lowers two mugs to the floor. "I didn't know if you wanted marshmallow or not, so I brought up a few." And from his robes, he pulls out a small packet. "You don't have to look _so_ bewildered, Pot—Harry."

Harry adds a few marshmallows and drinks. They don't talk, but for the first time in a while, Harry feels kind of alright.

Draco and Harry seem to gravitate toward each other after that night. They're not friends, exactly, but they aren't enemies; they'd had enough of that to last three lifetimes. They sit together at meals and during class; help with some of the repairs that had been forgotten over the summer. When they study together in the common room, no one says anything when Harry falls asleep with his head on Draco's shoulder and a book in his lap. No one says anything when he awakes almost peacefully.

***

Hogwarts has become a place of painful memories.

Harry knows he's being selfish when he freezes up outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because that's where he'd spent the most time with Remus; when he refuses to go to the library, because all he can see is Hermione and that triumphant look she always got when studying; refuses to play quidditch or even to glance at Ginny because all he can see is Ron and Fred and Molly's pain. He's used to pain, used to having the people he loves and needs torn away from him.

Sometimes, he thinks he sees a flash out of the corner of his eye, and turns to reprimand Colin, only to remember that Colin and his camera are gone.

***

It’s in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry feels the pressure building behind his eyes. His magic bursts from him, uprooting tables and parchment like they are little more than leaves in the wind.

"Harry," murmurs Draco, the only one brave enough to rest his hand on Harry's arm. “You’re safe.”

Harry turns and runs, and Draco silently gathers their things and follows.

The Room of Requirement holds memories for both of them.

Harry is pacing when Draco finally shows up. There are scorched practice dummies scattered around the room, and Draco has to pretend he's not terrified of Harry in that moment. He just closes the door and waits quietly.

"Did I hurt anybody?"

"You gave Longbottom quite a scare, but I'm sure he'll recover. He always does. Are you alright?"

Harry feels like he did during fifth year, like he did every time Dumbledore ignored him, or someone accused him of being a liar. He feels like he did after Sirius had fallen through the veil and Dumbledore just sat at his desk looking sadder and older than Harry had ever seen him. Draco conjures a shield as the dummies explode and the Room creates more to be destroyed.

"Harry."

When Draco reaches him, Harry collapses into the other boy's arms.

"I'm just so tired."

And then Harry cries, and Draco isn't sure what to do, so he holds him. He doesn't say anything, even as Harry's tears ruin one of his few remaining nice shirts.

Harry can remember, after Voldemort was gone at last, seeing Draco in the Great Hall. He'd been seated beside his mother's body, alone. His father had fled when it became obvious the battle was lost. Draco had cried silently in his corner, so unlike the sobs of Molly Weasley when she'd found out she'd lost two of her sons.

Harry knew he should have comforted Ginny, but instead he went over and sat beside Draco. They didn't say anything, didn't really need to, but it was enough.

"I don't blame you, Harry."

Harry doesn't move his eyes from the fireplace, doesn't say a word as Draco moves closer.

"My mother…she made her choice, she knew what would happen if the Dark Lord figured out she'd lied. None of us blame you. We all made our choices."

Harry doesn’t respond. He stands up and goes to bed. He doesn't mean to sleep, but when he awakes screaming to the image of Hermione's werewolf mangled body, he doesn't allow himself to sleep for three days.

***

Harry stays at Hogwarts for Christmas.

Ginny had, for the first time in months, spoken to him to invite him to the Burrow. Harry hadn't looked at her, hadn't looked up until she'd sighed softly and left. Draco stays behind as well, unsure if it's because he doesn't want to go to the Manor, or if he's doing it to look after Harry.

On Christmas morning, Harry looks absolutely miserable. Not because he'd expected more (or any) presents—he's never done that, even after attending Hogwarts—but because there a few there.

One of them, the largest, has Mrs. Weasley's handwriting on it.

Draco watches Harry mechanically open his gifts, sees  the grief cross Harry's face when he holds up a soft-looking green sweater, and sees the confusion when he opens Draco's gift to him to find a generous amount of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"I didn't think to get you anything…" he says a bit awkwardly. Draco waves him off and tells him to get ready for lunch.

Three days after Christmas, Harry wakes screaming. This time, he's not alone. Draco's sitting on the end of Harry's bed, looking more concerned than Harry feels he has any right to be.

"Guess the Dreamless Sleep doesn't work."

"How'd you get in here? I have wards—"

Draco shrugs.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Harry surprises both of them when he answers no.

For the rest of the holidays, they share a bed so Harry can sleep, and Draco realizes that he sleeps better as well.

***

When their classmates return, Draco resumes sleeping in his own bed. Two nights into the start of term, he feels restless, and wakes to the headache he's learned to associate with Harry. Without stopping to slip on his dressing gown, he bolts from his room. Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Ernie are standing outside of Harry's door, looking worried.

"What's going on?" Draco asks, even though he can feel the heat pouring from the room. In that moment, he doesn't care what's going on; getting to Harry is the only thing on his mind as he pushes open the door.

The bed is burning, burning hotter than any fire Draco's ever felt, and for a second he feels afraid. The fire doesn't hurt when he touches it. It doesn't burn as he climbs through the flames, into the bed, and pulls a surprisingly—terrifyingly—cold Harry to his chest. And the flames stop.

"I dreamed about the snitch," Harry says shakily some time later.

"The snitch?” asks Draco. “A dream about quidditch made you—"

"It wasn't quidditch. It's—never mind."

Draco can hear the plea in Harry's voice.

"Tell me. Please."

And Harry does.

He goes over the pensive, briefly—it's not his story to tell—then how he donned his invisibility cloak and went to the forest. He tells Draco about the snitch and those horrible words. Tells him how he saw his parents, Remus, and Sirius. Tells him about how he'd allowed himself to be a child for one moment as he'd asked _does it hurt?_

As he speaks, it occurs to him that he probably wouldn't have told Ron and Hermione. He wouldn't have been able to deal with their concern, their sadness. Draco has gone from hating Harry to protecting him. He's asked to hear the story. He wants to know. Ron and Hermione wouldn't have asked. They wouldn't have wanted to know.

He hesitates before he goes through his death. What happened at King’s Cross was kind of private, but so was the snitch.

Draco inhales sharply when Harry tells him what his mother had done. If Harry focuses, he can remember the feel of her fingers on his face, on his chest as she'd checked his pulse. He can hear the longing in her voice as she asks of her son.

"Thank you," is all Draco says when Harry finishes.

There's no _Harry! That's terrible_. No _Harry, perhaps you should talk to someone_. He just says thank you, and then rearranges them so they can sleep.

 


End file.
